Final Farewell
by MadameAzuline
Summary: Ciel had hardened his heart, accepted his fate at the hands of the Demon at his side, but will that resolution crumble when the chance to reclaim his past comes knocking at his door? Or is he already too consumed by hellfire?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **A collaboration fic between _Smart Angel_ and _Harmonized Insanity_~ This fic is set in the manga-verse, so there's no mention of anime events or characters at all.  
><span><strong>Spoilers: <strong>May be slight references to manga events such as the Circus Arc, but otherwise, nope, it's safe.  
><span><strong>Pairing: <strong>Not really a pairing fic, though there may be hints of SebCiel, but no more than is canon anyway.  
><span><strong>Warnings: <strong>None come to mind. If that changes, it'll be mentioned at the top of the chapter.  
><span><strong>Summary: <strong>Ciel had hardened his heart, accepted his fate at the hands of the Demon at his side, but will that resolution crumble when the chance to reclaim his past comes knocking at his door? Or is he already too consumed by hellfire?  
><span><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>Yana Toboso is our God. We own nothing.

۞

His eyes wouldn't open. The grogginess was fading now, but still he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes. It felt like he'd only just put his head down on the pillow. Surely it couldn't be morning yet? No, surely not, Tanaka hadn't come to wake him.

It took a moment for that thought to register in his mind, and when it did, alarm shot through him like a bolt of electricity. Any lingering drowsiness was gone instantly, and his eyes flew open.

Darkness.

Thick, impenetrable, and most certainly not his bedroom.

Vincent Phantomhive was a man that thrived on darkness. His very existence depended on it, really, to be able to do his duty. However, that didn't exactly entail _literal _darkness, and suddenly awaking to nothing but wasn't something he liked. It was only his years of experience and iron will that kept the immediate surge of panic at bay.

Experimentally, he lifted a hand. He wasn't so much surprised as mildly annoyed to meet an obstruction not too far in front of his face. Feeling around ascertained what he had already assumed; he was encased. In what, he didn't much fancy thinking about. Still, he did a lot he didn't particularly like, so he set his mind to the task at hand. His first and most morbid thought was a coffin. If the soft cushion beneath him was anything to go by, little more guesswork was needed; he was indeed in a coffin.

Fantastic.

No panicking. Vincent Phantomhive did not panic, even in morose situations such as these. He kept calm, cool and collected as he analysed the situation and-

"Vincent?"

Distant, muffled, but he would have recognized that voice no matter what.

"...Rachel?"

And all shred of composure fled him. Giving no thought to just how much oxygen there could be in the coffin, he beat his fists against the wood trapping him, kicked his legs out as much as the small space would allow, a wordless cry breaking past his lips.

Rachel was near. Rachel was in danger. _And he was trapped._

"My, my, someone's not a morning person."

The coffin door suddenly swung forward and Vincent, moving forward to strike the wood again, was propelled out. Usually there would be grace. He'd have caught himself, held himself with that ineffable air he'd been raised to always possess. Clearly not now, as he instead was set hurtling to the floor. Hands settled on his shoulders instantly and he moved to lash out before catching sight of who it was touching him.

Rachel was knelt beside him, cerulean eyes racing over him, checking for any injuries. Her face was impeccably calm, but the hands on his shoulders betrayed her frenzied state, so tight even he had to bite back a wince. Satisfied he was unharmed - apart from his bloodied fists, but that was due to himself - she looked up at the only other man in the room.

A man they both recognized.

"Undertaker," Vincent said, just the feel of his wife at his side enough to calm him, not a trace of his bemusement evident in his tone.

The man was the same as always; that ash hair obscuring his eyes, effectively making him one of the most impossible men to read, those scars peeking out from beneath the bangs, that ever-present grin that so needed to be wiped away just as much as answers needed to be given.

"It is nice to see the Phantomhives again," the man said with a smile, "After suuuch a long time... This is certainly turning out to be much more interesting than I originally thought."

"Interesting?" Vincent echoed, putting his arms around Rachel's waist. It was true that in some bizarre way Undertaker was their ally but... But a visit to him meant something was going on with England's Underworld. Was he on a mission from the Queen? And how did he end up there? More importantly, why was Rachel there, by his side?

He took a look around, trying to find some clues to what might be going on. A mission from the Queen; that was a good start... But what had she asked him to do? And why is it that he could not remember? Maybe someone gave him some poison or drugged his drink... No, he was Vincent Phantomhive, Earl of the Phantomhive family. He wouldn't be as careless as to allow himself to be drugged. So maybe a fight? That still didn't explain why he was in a coffin though. And why did Undertaker say they haven't seen each other in a long time? It hadn't been that long since his last visit...

One look at Rachel and Vincent could tell his wife was thinking the same thing. Rachel was a smart woman, calm and able to process things faster than you would expect. She may suffer from poor health, but what she lacked there, she more than made up in intelligence and charm. That was the reason why many times she would help him in missions, when he had to go undercover and needed someone capable to stay by his side.

Was that the explanation? Was she helping him in something?

"Ciel..." Rachel suddenly said, her voice barely above whisper. Vincent looked at her in surprise, and was about to ask why she was calling their son's name when she stood up and started to look around. "Ciel!" she called again "Is he okay, Undertaker? Is our son..." Coffins everywhere the eye could reach. One which she was inside not long ago, and another one where her Husband emerged from... But none that would fit a ten year old child. So he was safe... Or at least not locked inside a death bed. The thought was enough to make the poor woman sick. To imagine her little child, who could barely stand being alone during a stormy night, alone, in the darkness of a coffin... Oh God, please, never let her child know that solitude and darkness!

"It's okay, Rachel," Vincent said, and then stood up and joined his beloved. He was just as worried about Ciel as she was, but one of them needed to keep their cool. He put an arm around her shoulder, trying to calm her down, and, not surprisingly, he drew strength and comfort from her. He was able to adopt a calm smile as he looked at her beautiful blue eyes. "I'm sure Tanaka is taking very good care of Ciel." When she took a deep breath to calm herself, the man turned to Undertaker, who enjoyed the show with a smile on his face. "Undertaker, what is going on here? I'm afraid I don't recall how I ended up in this... rather strange situation."

"Awww... So Mr. Phantomhive wants answers, eh?" A giggle came out of the white haired man... This could not be good. "I know it has been a long time since your last visit... And what a visit it was, indeed... But I do have a price for my information..."

"Laughter." Vincent nodded. A joke... This man was always so troublesome! How could he come up with a joke when he hardly recalled the past hour?

"I'll take care of this." Rachel said with a smile "I heard some from Ann the other day, and I'm sure you will enjoy it."

True to her word, in less than five minutes the creepy shop in London was erupting with laughter.

"There you are..." Rachel said, and turned to her husband, "I think he will answer anything."

Vincent, snapped out of his shock, smiled proudly.

"I'll ask again, Undertaker," Vincent said, and even though it was clear that this was not a request, but a demand, he still sounded polite "What is going on here...?"

"You ask a hard question, Sir..." Undertaker answered, still wheezing with laughter "One I cannot give yet... Or rather... I'm not the right person to give it to you... All I can say is that _you _have no missions from the Lady." The man chose to ignore the chuckled followed by the word 'you' "Why don't ya go home? I'm sure that will be a lot more useful..."

At the mention of home, Vincent felt Rachel tense beneath his arm. He knew just how she was feeling, because the same feeling flooded him then. A bone-deep weariness, an overwhelming desire to see those red brick walls and flower-strewn lawns, the lawn which Ciel would come darting down at the sound of their carriage, Sebastian at his heels. Rationally, he knew it couldn't have been long since he'd last seen his son, but he was filled with a sudden longing to have the boy in his arms.

He needed no more prompting.

"I see. Well then, thank you for your help, Undertaker."

Yes, because the man had been _ever _so informative. Vincent's head buzzed with confusion, a feeling quite foreign to him. He was usually so in the know, five steps ahead of everyone else. Yet now the roles had been reversed, and he was clueless.

Being clueless was not a thing he enjoyed, and he resolved to not be clueless for much longer. Undertaker said that the answer to his question lay in his home, and since he – well, Rachel – had paid the price, he did not doubt his associates words. So, they would return to the manor.

۞

There was no carriage resting outside of Undertaker's shop, only deepening Vincent and Rachel's shared unease. The carriage would not have left without them, surely. With little other choice, they had to pay for a ride with the little money in Vincent's pockets.

The man overcharged him, and Vincent remembered just why he didn't dwell with the Great Unwashed if he could help it.

There was another couple also in the carriage, reeking of alcohol and other things Vincent didn't want to think about, so he held his tongue and tightened his arm around his wife. There remained much to be said between them, but it was not for the ears of strangers, even if they were drunk.

Vincent and Rachel disembarked the carriage a distance away from the manor; if their companions saw them going to such a extravagant place, they'd surely be mugged. As the carriage drew away, Rachel slipped her hand into his.

"I don't like this. We gave Undertaker what he wanted, why would he be so vague?" she murmured, a delicate frown pulling at her face as they began walking.

"Undertaker always has a reason for what he does. It's alright, we'll figure this out. If there's nothing at home, I'll get in touch with Deiderich, see if he can tell me anything."

They trotted over the rubble path, hands clasped tightly, as the manor rose over the horizon. It looked much the same as ever, with its immaculate gardens – Rachel's pride, the perfect playground for the children – and the huge building, the windows glittering in the setting evening sun. A rush of warmth washed over them, that odd exhaustion lifting slightly as their home drew closer-

Only to retreat instantly. Rachel's hand gripped his tighter, palm clammy, as the unease returned. It bloomed like a flower in her chest, growing as the petals unfurled, further and further until it threatened to choke her completely.

Those flowers. Those flowers were yellow roses, when they should have been red. She remembered picking the seeds with Ann, laughing at the blush as bright as her hair that stole across her sister's face, declaring that there'd be a part of her in the garden.

And... and wasn't there supposed to be a tree there? Yes, definitely, because that was where they sat when the sun was too bright and she grew dizzy, but didn't want to go inside because Ciel and Lizzie were having too much fun playing. She'd had that tree planted right there, because it gave the perfect shade, close enough to the flowers to smell them but far enough away that the wasps and bees didn't bother them.

The manor too... had that crack always been there? Spider-webbing along the wall, like something heavy had charged right into it.

Something wasn't right.

"Vincent..."

"I know," he muttered, a rare frustration lacing his words. He'd seen the changes too, seen the differences, seen that their home was _wrong._

Slowly now, wary, they approached the front steps as though crossing a minefield. Their grip on each other was almost painful, but neither released the other's hand. As they climbed the steps, they only noticed more details, little things that were wrong. Little vines creeping along the wall, mouldings around the door that neither of them recognised, a door knocker that both of them would have deemed far too tacky to have.

A shadowed glance passed between them, a silent agreement not to just enter even though it was _their _home and their right to go inside, before Rachel, always the impatient one, grabbed the door knocker and _knock, knock, knock._

It was not Tanaka who answered the door.

The man – boy? – was one they had never seen before. Not much taller than Rachel herself, he stood in a stance that mirrored their own, tense and ready to turn tail and run should need be. He eyed them warily, as though they'd bite, yet seemed completely unafraid of the snake twined around his own neck.

When neither Vincent nor Rachel made any move towards him, the boy relaxed, smoothing down his black blazer self-consciously and straightening. He took a deep breath, then spoke in a voice little over a whisper.

"Do you have an appointment with Smi... Earl Phantomhive?" and then added, "says Oscar."

Rachel and Vincent exchanged apprehensive looks. Earl Phantomhive... Didn't this boy know that the man whom he spoke of was right in front of him? Clearly not, since he still waited for an answer.

"No," Vincent said, and then smiled when the boy frowned. "But we have urgent matters to discuss with the Earl so if you please..."

"Black said to not let anyone in without an appointment. We must follow the schedule," the boy answered, and his already small amount of confidence seemed to be dropping. Was this boy even properly trained as a servant? "says Webster."

"That may be your order, boy," Rachel said. Something was definitely up, and she didn't like it. First they woke up in coffins, then their house was wrong and now this boy was referring to some unknown person as Earl Phantomhive? The title that belonged to her husband? She didn't like this... she didn't like this at all... "But we need to get inside. It is an urgent matter."

"B-But Black said..."

"Snake, what is going on?"

A butler clad entirely in black appeared behind the boy, his voice calm, if not a little impatient. Elegantly, he sent the boy on other household business, saying he would take over from there. A very handsome man, Rachel noticed, he could have been Vincent's twin if not for some minor details. He was tall, had hair as dark as his clothes, and his blood-coloured eyes examined them with... What was it? Amusement? Surprise?

But what shocked the couple the most was not the inhuman eyes or the sadistic curve of his smile, but the pin on the butler's clothes. The pin, that belonged to Tanaka, the head butler of the Phantomhive manor.

"You want an audience with Young Master, I hear."

Young Master?

"Why don't you come in?" he said and then stepped aside, letting them inside their own home.

The view shocked them. As if the outside of their home wasn't different enough, the inside looked like an entirely different place! The family portrait they had posed for months previously, and the one Rachel so proudly hung on the main staircase, was gone. The carpet and the wood flooring, while very similar to the one they had, was different. Furniture was in places it hadn't been, and around ran a maid whose glasses seemed not to be doing their job. And of course, there was the sound... Or lack of it. Before their home would be filled with Ciel's laughter and Sebastian's barks. But now the only sound heard was of the maid's shoes as she clamoured around on the wooden floor, or of servants discussing things in the distance.

This was not their home. Not the one they left. This house could not even be called a home; who would want to live in such a dark and tense atmosphere? With so much loneliness and darkness, Vincent felt this place was almost worse than the coffin he had been in just this morning.

"My Young Master is quite busy, but I'm sure he will take the time to see such _important _guests." Something flickered in the man's smile. He knew who they were.

"Your Master seems like a very generous and kind person," Vincent said, deciding to continue the little game. He looked at Rachel, hoping she would understand she should follow his lead.

"Some people may say that," the man said, and started going up the stairs, "Others may disagree."

"What is your opinion then?" Rachel asked, with a pleasant smile, trying to get any clues as to what kind of man they were about to meet.

"I shall stay by Young Master's side until his last moments," he said "I am, after all, one hell of a butler."

"That did not answer my question." She did not miss that those words, to this man, meant something more.

"I believe actions speak louder than words." He then stopped in front of a door. "Here we are."

A knock, and Vincent and Rachel found themselves holding their breaths. Though no response was heard, the butler opened the door, and stayed in front of it, blocking their view of the so-called Earl Phantomhive, and his view of them.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Young Master," he says "But I have guests that demand to see you at this moment."

"I don't have time for this, Sebastian." That voice... Vincent could have sworn it sounded just like... But no, it was not possible! It sounded like him, but it carried a harshness, a coldness that would never be present in his son's voice! "I believe I ordered you not to interrupt me unless it had something to do with the..."

"And it does indeed, My Lord," the butler said "I never disobey your orders, after all. I believe you will find these guests to be..."

But he was interrupted, for Rachel couldn't take it any more. She shoved the butler aside and made her way into what she knew was her husband's old study. It looked about the same, but different at the same time, just like the house. There were still books everywhere the eye could reach, two sofas for the guests and the Earl, and a writing desk close to the window. However, now there was also a chess table in the room, as well as some other games she did not recognize on the coffee table. A deck of playing cards was spread across the writing desk, and sitting on the armchair behind it was a small boy, holding a chess piece close to his lips, with a big blue eye showing and an eye-patch covering the other.

The hair... The eye... The face... Even though there was no smile, she would recognize this boy anywhere.

"Ciel!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** _A big thanks to _**_A Darker Heaven/Touch of The Wind, The Shadow Flower Ninja, Ashley Antwolf, Melanie Malfoy _**_and _**_Leah _**_for the reviews. Hope you guys like this chapter :)_

۞

Earl Phantomhive looked at his guests, putting down the chess piece and frowning. He shook his head and looked his unexpected guests over, no emotion showing in his eye. Then he turned to the butler, who had a smirk on his face.

"Sebastian..." he started, but was interrupted again by the woman.

"Ciel..." Rachel said, taking a step closer, "Is... Is that really you? W-What happened to your eye...?" She extended a hand and took a step closer, "Ciel..."

"I'm sorry, I wasn't expecting guests," the boy said, with a formality that shocked Vincent, "But that still doesn't make up for my lack of manners."

Vincent looked over his son as he stood up. He was taller, wearing clothes that he couldn't remember ordering for him. His hair was slightly longer, his left eye hidden by a black patch... No smile. It was his son, Ciel Phantomhive, but something had changed. He stood there, with pride he didn't have before; pride that no ten year old, no child, could have. There was an air around him, an aura of pure darkness, and a sadness that Vincent wasn't sure he wanted to understand.

And then there was the butler, by their side, who stood with a smirk. The two had exchanged glances. Vincent was no fool, they knew something. And Ciel, just like the butler, Sebastian, knew exactly who they were. He was playing the role of the Earl... What did that make them, then?

"I don't have time to keep you company right now, since I'm busy with paper work for my company," Company? What company? "And I'll have my afternoon lessons later, isn't that right, Sebastian?"

"Yes, Young Master. I'm afraid you won't be able to get out of it this time." Again the two exchanged knowing glances.

"But I assure you I'll be at your side during Dinner and will make up for my rudeness."

"C-Ciel..." Rachel started.

"It's not your fault, Earl," Vincent said, playing along. He looked at Rachel, hoping she would follow his lead. She didn't want to. This was their son, why should she pretend they didn't know each other? Her child; the boy she gave birth to... Treating her like a complete stranger! Vincent was not happy either, but it was clear Ciel was not willing to drop the act. It would be better to just play along. "We arrived without warning."

"It's my job to always expect the unexpected," Ciel replied, "You are too kind."

The boy was ice. It was in the way he looked at them, the way he spoke to them, the way he held himself. A perfectly calculated indifference, befitting of the Queen's Watchdog. Vincent knew that expertly crafted chill well, had worn it more often than he liked himself. It disturbed him more than he could describe to see his little boy now clad in it.

Beside him, Rachel was shaking with the effort to restrain herself. She knew she was jeopardizing them. She'd encountered one or two bizarre situations in her time married to Vincent and was more than aware that composure was crucial. This was different, however. This was personal to her. This was _Ciel._

Vincent and Rachel jolted as someone knocked on the doorframe, neither having noticed anyone approach behind them.

"E-Excuse me?"

"Ah, Meirin. Please show our guests to their room." The butler looked through them, plastic smile curling his lips as he addressed the woman standing behind them. The maid, clearly, if her clothing was anything to go by. She peeked through round, wire-rimmed glasses curiously, and a deep flush descended on her when Sebastian spoke.

"Y-Yes, Mister Sebastian! Please follow me." She turned to the couple, bowing slightly before turning on her heel and walking out of the room. Well, walking probably wasn't the correct word. More like stumbled, since her feet seemed to work independently from her body and she couldn't take a step without tripping over _something._

Vincent adopted his business smile, inclining his head to his son, though the boy had long since turned his attention back to his desk, and steered Rachel from the room by the elbow. She hadn't made a move to leave, had that look on her face that spoke of confrontation. They were barely out the door before it swung shut, lock sliding into place with a resounding click.

The couple followed the bumbling maid as she showed them around their own home, hands locked tightly together. Unease enveloped them to a smothering degree. Dinner was certainly going to be an interesting affair.

۞

Sebastian raised his hand until the footsteps had completely faded from outside the door. Before Ciel could even begin to speak, he shook his head.

"I do not know."

Ciel's hand tightened on the arms of the chair, knuckles white.

"Are they... real?" His voice didn't shake, didn't even waver a little, and he was glad for it. His face remained as blank as it had when his parents had been in the room, perhaps had gone even blanker. Good. It would not do for the Demon to see how shaken he was.

"If by real you mean of flesh and blood, then yes, they are _real." _Sebastian crossed the room, moving to stand in front of Ciel's desk. His eyes had that ethereal glow to them and he forced himself to meet them steadily.

"Then look-a-likes of some sort, an attack on the company?" Ciel ventured, knowing how weak an attempt it was before the suggestion had even left his lips. How nice it would be if this was something as simple as rival companies.

"I'm afraid not, Young Master. This has a certain... _Underworld _quality to it, I think."

As always, Sebastian's words were double-edged swords, and Ciel did not miss the amused tone when he said the word. Not in the mood for word games, Ciel snapped, "My underworld or your underworld?"

Sebastian chuckled.

"Yours. Really, they came knocking on your door. I'm certain mine would be a fraction more subtle."

Ciel worried his lip between his teeth, running a hand through his hair. His thoughts were racing and he could feel his composure slipping through his fingertips, harder to grasp than smoke. He was too aware of Sebastian's eyes on him, watching carefully and seeing more than Ciel was comfortable with. He lowered his hands, which had buried themselves in his hair without his consent, back to the armrests of the chair. Clearing his mind, he took a single deep breath. When he spoke again, his voice was calm, monotone, giving nothing away. Those eyes could look all they wanted, but they would only see what Ciel _allowed _him to see.

"Then what can it be? Zombies, or something of the like?" It was an absurd suggestion but then again, if someone had told him that a Grim Reaper was going to take a chainsaw to a handful of prostitutes, he'd have thought that absurd too. It was always best to hedge his bets.

Sebastian scoffed. Apparently he disagreed.

"Really, Young Master, you're reading too much of that Mary Shelley again. Next you'll be suggesting vampires."

Ciel's brow furrowed.

"Vampires aren't real?"

"Simply Demons with bad press-"

"Stop distracting me! Back to the matter at hand... you really have no idea what this could be? And I mean _no _idea, be it human, supernatural, a jolly fat man from the South Pole, or whatever other possibility it could be."

Sebastian inclined his head.

"No idea at all, Young Master. In all my years, I've never come across something like this. However, I can assure you of one thing," at this, he met Ciel's eye, and his were a blazing red, "they _are _Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive."

The young Earl looked at the chess pieces on his table. His posture and face showed no emotion as he reached out for one of the pieces and examined it carefully, as if it held all the answers to his questions. Finally he looked up again, seeing that the Demon had not moved, and leaned back.

"This may have something to do with the case the Queen asked me to investigate," he said, "Whatever it is, we'll handle it like usual. Arrange a carriage for us tomorrow, so we can visit the Undertaker, he may have some answers. We'll stay in London for some time. Considering this deals with the dead, I suspect we'll be hearing from those Shinigamis soon." He made a face, clearly showing his opinion on the idea.

"Yes, that would be unpleasant indeed," agreed Sebastian, blanching.

"We'll treat them like any other guests," Ciel concluded, "Sebastian, I want you to cook dinner tonight. The night will be enduring enough without Bard's 'cooking'."

"Yes, Young Master," the Demon said with a wry grin.

"What?" Ciel asked, annoyed.

"It seems to me that the Young Master is getting a little soft soft," he said, and there was a certain undercurrent of _something _in his tone, something Ciel couldn't quite place, "Did seeing your parents affect the Queen's faithful dog?"

"Don't be stupid, Sebastian," he said "I'm Earl Ciel Phantomhive, owner of Funtom Company, the Queen's Watch Dog... The last thing I am is soft." He picked up a chess piece and met his butler's eyes, "We'll need them on our side. We'll keep them happy until we have all the information we need," and with the one in his hand, he knocked down another chess piece on the chequered board, "And then we'll get rid of them. Understand?"

A smirk. He knelt down on the floor and placed a hand where his heart supposedly lay, bowing his head to the young boy in front of him.

"Yes, My Lord."

۞

Rachel and Vincent let themselves be guided by the maid. At every turn, at every corner, it became even more clear that this mansion was not the one they left behind. This was the mansion of a lonely soul who dedicated himself entirely to his job. A mansion of someone who was cold and hard, who would not allow anyone else to see his weakness.

It was Ciel's Mansion.

"This will be your room." said Meirin, finally stopping. Vincent smiled and thanked her, earning a blush from the maid. Rachel also thanked her, and the maid bowed down, clumsily, and excused herself. Rachel nodded and entered the room.

The first word that came to Rachel's mind was _impersonal. _There was something almost clinical about the room they'd been given. Oh, it was immaculate, of course. Not a speck of dust tarnished any surface. All the candlesticks were polished to an attractive sheen. Every portrait, oil paintings of landscapes she'd never seen, was completely symmetrical, not an inch askew. The room was comprised of modest colours, toned-down reds, blues and golds, regal and designer. It was a perfectly nice room, no doubt about that.

But where were the framed portraits of Ciel and Lizzie playing in the garden, or the one of her and Ann at Ann's first ball, or even one of Rachel and Vincent on their wedding day? Where were the scattered toys and plush teddy bears that Ciel always left strewn all over the floor, just waiting for Sebastian to sink his teeth in to? Where were Vincent's books, he always left one or two in most of the rooms so he could just pick one up no matter where he was in the Manor.

This room was nothing but a display. The whole mansion was nothing but plastic, cold and unfeeling, there to be looked at. No one _lived _here.

"I don't understand," Rachel said, "I don't understand it at all! Ciel... Why was he acting like that? What happened to him? His eye! When did he get hurt? And who is that butler?"

"Sebastian, it's what Ciel called him," Vincent said, shaking his head, "And I have yet to see the real Sebastian."

"That does not answer my questions. What happened to _our son_, Vincent?"

"I'm not sure... But he was acting like a true Phantomhive. Like the Queen's Watchdog should." As he said that, no pride or happiness came over the man's face; only sadness and regret. He'd always known his son would take his role. It was his legacy, after all, a responsibility that came with the wealth and connections, the perks of the high life. However, that wasn't supposed to be until Ciel was an adult, at the very least, and had been thoroughly instructed by Vincent on the job.

Ciel was a child. To see him with that collar around his neck sickened Vincent to his stomach. He was no Watchdog. Ciel was a puppy, at best.

Rachel opened her mouth to respond but she was beaten to it by a firm knock on the door. They both fell silent instantly, moving to each other's sides before Vincent called for the person to enter. The person who did was not an unfamiliar face, though there was something very different about him from the man they remembered.

"Tanaka," Vincent breathed, just the sight of his old friend enough to send waves of relief through him. But as with everything else that day, first sights were deceiving. This was Tanaka, as sure as he was Vincent, but there was something distinctly un-Tanaka about him. He seemed shorter – well, he was getting on in years, it wasn't that strange for people to shrink with age – and there was a dullness to his once sharp eyes – again, it could just be age, right? But, and Vincent felt himself growing dizzy, he'd only seen Tanaka yesterday, hadn't he? Age accounted for the changes, maybe, but Tanaka couldn't have aged so much in a single day.

And neither could Ciel, who was undoubtedly taller, had shed some of his puppy-fat, sat in Vincent's chair and looked like he belonged there.

This time, it was Rachel who kept her poker-face while Vincent felt like he was drowning in his racing thoughts and confusion. She gave a sharp squeeze to his arm, a silent warning to _keep calm, _and addressed Tanaka with a warm smile.

"Hello, Tanaka."

Tanaka stooped into a polite bow, arms full of towels.

"Good afternoon, Sir, Ma'am. I've brought towels for the bathroom. If you need anything else, please do not hesitate to ask," the elderly man said, walking into the ensuite and putting the towels away. He made to leave the room again, but Rachel swooped in front of him, kicking the door shut while still smiling at Tanaka.

"There is something else, actually. Can we steal a few minutes of your time?"

Tanaka seemed completely unfazed by being locked in the room, as Rachel had assumed he would. After all, the Phantomhive hospitality was a flawless one, and there was no way guests would be sent to a room that wasn't right down to the last detail, towels and all.

"Of course, Ma'am. What can I do for you?"

"I just need answers to a few questions. I won't keep you long. First, could you tell me what year it is?"

There was a long pause before he spoke again.

"1888, Ma'am."

When the words left the older man's mouth, Vincent's eyes widened. 1888? No, that couldn't be! It was 1885, Ciel's tenth birthday was soon to come and... And if what Tanaka said was true, then that meant that three entire years had passed since Vincent and Rachel's last memories. It didn't make any sense but...

But it did at the same time. Tanaka looked older, and so did his son. The mansion was different, the garden, the new servants... But still, three years was a long time. And why couldn't they remember anything from the past three years? What was going on?

"Impossible," said the woman, shaking her head, "No, this can't be... That would mean..."

"I understand how shocked you must be right now, Ma'am," Tanaka said, "But please understand, that the Young Master is even more surprised about seeing his deceased parents back after three years.'

If Vincent wasn't surprised before, he as sure as hell was now. This new piece of information came at him worse than a big cannon ball coming at high speed. Deceased? As in dead? Well, that must be it, the man did not know of any other way you could be deceased. And for three years? Yes, it made a little sense that three years had passed. All the changes couldn't have possibly happened over night. But... but dead? As the Queen's Watchdog, or maybe former Watchdog as of three years ago, Vincent found himself in quite a few of unpleasant, painful and even downright disturbing situations. But never did he think he would die and then come back. Those kind of things did not happen... right?

"D-deceased?" He didn't even realize he was speaking until the words fell from his lips. One glance at his wife and he could see that the woman was having just as much of a hard time digesting this information.

As the good butler he was, Tanaka helped Rachel to the bed and asked if she desired anything; water, wine, maybe she wanted the window open to get some fresh air? But the woman just shook her head and looked at her husband, fear and confusion in her giant blue eyes.

Deceased... They'd been deceased for three years. The coffins and the Undertaker's words came back to Rachel's mind. He said it had been a long time since their last visit... Could that last visit possibly have been...?

Rachel was feeling even more ill, light-headed and certainly ready to faint. However she tried to keep herself strong. She needed to digest this information, she needed to know what happened and, most importantly, she needed to know how Ciel was.

Three years alone. That child, _their _child, had spent three years as an orphan, working as much, or even more, than an adult should, and being forced into a collar that was still too big for him.

"What..." she asked once she finally found her voice, "What happened? How did we... die?"

Tanaka looked at Vincent and then back at Rachel. He glanced at the door once and then closed it before taking in a deep breath and looking straight ahead, the same look he would wear when reporting the latest events to Vincent or reading a letter from the Queen.

"It was during the Young Master's tenth birthday. The mansion caught on fire. It was an attempt to execute the two of you... Unfortunately, it worked. The Young Master was taken away that night, and we all thought he had died as well and his body destroyed in the fire. However, many months later, the Young Master came back, with Mister Sebastian by his side, and a missing eye." He paused, and looked down, and Vincent could tell his butler and friend felt an immense guilt over what had happened to his son... But right now, his fatherly instincts didn't allow him to feel any sympathy for the man. All his thoughts were focused on his son, and the fact that he went missing for months.

"What happened?" Rachel quickly stood up "What happened to Ciel? And what did that man... That-That Sebastian... How did they meet? And who _is_ he?"

"I cannot answer that, Ma'am." Tanaka looked down in shame.

"Why can you not answer, Tanaka?" Vincent asked. He was more composed than Rachel, but he knew he was walking a thin line. It wouldn't take long for him to fall and crack like his beloved wife.

"Because I do not know," he answered, "The Young Master will not speak to anyone about what happened during those months or how he met Mister Sebastian. He only said that it was Mister Sebastian who rescued him. The Young Master left it clear he has no idea where or to whom Mister Sebastian worked before... But he has the Young Master's complete trust, and is definitely worthy of being a Phantomhive Butler."

۞


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note:** _So, the current manga arc has some similarities to the fanfic, what with the dead coming back to life thing xD Smart Angel and I started planning this story around January, so it goes without saying that things coming to light in the current story arc were not taken into consideration. So let's just say that this fic is AU from the Murder Mystery arc onwards. _

۞

Dinner was an... _interesting _affair, to say the least.

Vincent hadn't expected anything less, given the situation. Well, situation hardly seemed to cover it. A situation was breaking the good china or wearing the red vest with the beige slacks when socialising with the high fashion crowd. No, suddenly finding out you'd been deceased three years previously and your also three years older son had been ensnared by the Underworld it was _your _job to control, well, situation didn't really cover that. Vincent reserved a very special phrase for such otherwise indescribable circumstances – this was a _clusterfuck, _of epic proportions.

After Tanaka had left the room, lips tight despite their continued flood of questions, Vincent and Rachel had had their respective breakdowns.

Rachel switched off. Her face was a blank slate, her eyes glazed, and not a single thought came to the forefront of her mind. She was glad for the blankness. If she hadn't gone blank, she'd certainly have wept.

Vincent, on the other hand, abandoned his composure completely. It was best to get it out of the way, really, rather than hold onto it and end up cracking at dinner. So, he did just that, pacing swift circles around the room and chuntering to himself, hands running restlessly through his hair. He didn't even try to come to terms with his own, however temporary, death – rather, he tried to come up with a _method _to come to terms with his own, however temporary, death. Quite a challenging thing to do, and he was certainly in a minority to have to attempt such a feat. They didn't ready you for clusterfucks like this in Watchdog 101, that was for sure.

Unfortunately, after a half hour of this, Vincent still hadn't found a method for coping with your own death and decided to opt for option two; repression. Freud would be rolling in his grave.

It felt like no time at all before the bespectacled maid from earlier was knocking on their door and leading them down to the dining hall. This time, Rachel kept her eyes trained on the floor before her. She didn't want to see the differences between the Manor now and the home she remembered building.

Ciel was waiting for them, of course, and stood as they entered. Ever the polite host, he waited for them to be seated before sitting himself. He'd changed his clothes since earlier, was now sporting a blue jacket so dark it was almost black. All Rachel could think about was how she'd have chosen a colour that didn't make him look quite so pale.

"I trust the room is to your liking?" His tone was polite and impersonal. He wore a smile of plastic that could have fooled the world, but that his Mother could see through in a second. Rachel laced her fingers together and settled her joined hands on her knees, below the table and out of sight, squeezed so tightly together her knuckles turned white.

Vincent, however, was not to be outdone in business etiquette. His boy may have been the Earl for three years now, but Vincent had decades on him.

"Oh, yes. Very comfortable," Vincent smiled, "Thank you, Earl."

"Good, I'm glad to hear it. Please accept my apologies that I couldn't see to you earlier. It was most rude of me, to leave my guests unattended all afternoon. I hope you don't judge me too harshly." Ciel's little grin was almost impish, like he was in on a joke that no-one else knew, but his words had a rehearsed quality to them, like he was saying what he'd heard other people say and was simply following the herd.

"You're too hard on yourself. We were the rude ones, to simply turn up on your doorstep like that and demand to see you without an appointment. Accept _my _apology, I hope we didn't interrupt your work."

Rachel took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. The butler, Sebastian, started serving the first course, while her husband and son continued with their little play. This was wrong. This was so wrong. She looked towards the head of the table and saw her son, her little boy, playing the role of an adult. She remembered when, not long ago, that child fit in her arms. She remembered his beautiful smiles and cerulean eyes sparkling with childish innocence... And now, here was that same boy, hardened by something Rachel couldn't begin to imagine, playing her husband's role.

She could still remember the first time she was alone with Ciel and Vincent in the same room. Rachel lovingly looked at her newborn son, imagining what to name him. The smile on her face was so big that she felt it would rip her face apart, yet she couldn't care less. In her arms, Rachel realized at that moment, was her world. That small boy that looked so much like Vincent meant everything to her. She would do anything to protect that child, to keep him safe and happy.

"What should we name him?" she asked, while the baby slept in her arms. She caressed the bridge of his nose, and was rewarded by the baby slightly stirring in her arms... so cute...

"Ciel," Vincent answered after a pause, also smiling.

"Ciel?" Rachel repeated, looking at him smiling, "I like it... But why...?"

"This boy..." Suddenly Vincent's blissful expression morphed into one of melancholy, "is the only thing right in all I've done. I'm a Phantomhive, the Queen's watchdog, and as my duty, I've done things that can only be described as evil. Yet, somehow, with all my sins, I was able to make this boy, so pure and innocent... A creature of the heavens, of the sky." Rachel blinked her eyes, surprised at her husband's speech "I want to keep him like this... as long as possible."

But they didn't, Rachel realized. Her heart sunk when she realized that she failed her mission as a mother. Ciel's life was put in danger, he was placed in position he was not ready for and as a result, he lost his childhood. As she stared at that single blue eye and carefully crafted smile, Rachel couldn't help but be overwhelmed with the urge to hug her little boy, just like she would during a thunderstorm, and tell him everything was going to be okay.

Though the urge was strong, Rachel stopped herself. Vincent was going along with this ridiculous charade, so he must have some sort of plan.

"Not at all," Ciel answered, and the butler went back to his side. Soon after, the other servants that were present in the room left, and a tension descended on the table. Yet Ciel didn't let his mask fall as he started eating his meal, along with Vincent and Rachel.

The silence was unbearable. Vincent tried to think of a way to approach the subject, but the wall his son had put between them was thick with no discernible weak spots. Rachel and Vincent had no useful cards, and Ciel knew that, yet they all kept their poker faces. It was obvious the boy and the butler knew who they were and, by now, knew they were informed of some of the events of the last three years, yet they continued to play the role of Welcoming Earl and Loyal Butler. They were trying to show control, Vincent had realized. His son showing him that this was his manor, his name and his title. He was challenging Vincent to try and break the wall while still maintaining his cool, proving himself to be worthy of the Phantomhive name. But the truth was, Vincent didn't know how. Yes, he had decades more experience than his son, and in a fair game, one in which he had been properly prepared for, he would be able to show why the name Vincent Phantomhive emitted pure fear on those who lived in the Underworld of England... but his son was obviously not one to play fair, and he had an ace up his sleeve... Vincent needed more time, more preparation, and the boy was taking full of advantage of that.

How ironic, Vincent thought. He never, in all his years, imagined he would have such a competition with his own child.

But Rachel had had enough. With the only noise in the room the clinking of silverware against china, and the feel of those demonic red eyes upon her, she couldn't take it any more, and just cracked.

"ENOUGH!" she yelled, surprising her husband but earning a victorious smirk from her child, "I've had enough! How long do we need to continued this ridiculous game?" She turned towards her son, who had not even moved, "Ciel..." her eyes softened, "What happened?"

"I thought Tanaka had made everything perfectly clear," he said, putting down his knife and fork. He turned his full attention to his guests, his smile dropping. Now, Vincent could see, he had stopped being Earl Phantomhive, and started to behave like the Queen's watchdog.

"_Clear? _Hardly," Rachel scoffed, "Given that he said he couldn't even answer most of our questions, nothing has been made clear at all."

Vincent gave her knee a warning squeeze.

"Not that he _couldn't _answer. More like, he wasn't permitted?" Vincent asked, looking at Rachel but directing the question at Ciel. Just the fact that Tanaka had needed the towels as an excuse to come to their room made Vincent think that perhaps he'd been given an order to keep silent. Their friendship had bought a few words, but Tanaka hadn't been able to give any concrete answers on the matter of Ciel.

Ciel didn't deny Vincent's accusation, giving a little shrug of the shoulders.

"I'd prefer any questions to be directed towards me rather than my staff. Now, how about we make a little deal?" Here, Ciel smiled, and it wasn't quite as plastic as before. However, there was again that glint in his eye that made Vincent feel like he was missing the punchline, "I have some questions of my own. You answer mine, I answer yours."

"That sounds fair. You may go first," Vincent offered, inclining his head. In his own shock, it hadn't really registered how shocked Ciel must have been. They were supposed to be _dead. _Now they were turning up on Ciel's doorstep? Of course Ciel had questions. Vincent just feared that he did not have the answers.

Ciel nodded, thinking over what to ask. It was Rachel he stared at, silent for an uncomfortably long time, before finally asking, "What did you get me for my ninth birthday?"

Rachel almost smirked herself. That one was too easy.

"A pocket-watch. It's a tradition in my family for a son to get given a pocket-watch on his tenth birthday, but you were always playing with your Father's, so we got it a year early. It's silver, with the Phantomhive crest on it, and your name carved on the cover."

Rachel didn't look away from Ciel's intense gaze while she answered, not missing the flicker of surprise as she responded perfectly.

"...Correct," he didn't sound at all happy about the fact, "Your turn."

Vincent and Rachel looked to each other, both brimming with questions but suddenly scared of actually getting answers. Once they heard the answer, they wouldn't be able to unhear it. Eventually, Vincent decided on a relatively safe option.

"What happened to your eye?" he asked softly, looking at the black patch with concern.

Ciel looked down, a hand coming to rest on the patch seemingly unconsciously, "An accident... Well, not an accident. A man, he had a knife and... It got infected, had to be removed." He raised his head, expression uncomfortable as he looked from the stricken Rachel to the frowning Vincent, "What was my pets name?"

Vincent answered this time, "Sebastian, our dog –" Ciel looked smug, but then Vincent continued with a small smile, "And of course there was Rumbleroar, your and Elizabeth's imaginary... lion, if I remember correctly?"

The smug look disappeared as quickly as it came, a light blush dusting Ciel's cheeks as he quickly glanced over his shoulder at the butler. The butler had his back turned to them, tending to the next course on the tray, but his shoulders shook lightly, only brightening Ciel's blush.

Ciel cleared his throat embarrassedly, "Your question?"

"Tanaka said that... that on the night of the fire, you were taken away. What happened?"

All traces of the blush were gone now, Ciel straightening in his chair and looking plainly uncomfortable. He didn't meet their eyes as he answered, each word as hesitant as the last.

"The fire, to kill you, it... it was so that they could take the business. This wasn't to do with the Underworld. They wanted Funtom. I think they were planning to kill me too. At least, they always said they would, but none of them wanted to get their hands dirty with just a kid, I suppose," he chuckled darkly, eye clouding over as he spoke, "I think what they were really doing was waiting to see if anyone else would come forward to claim the company, seeing as I was the sole heir. When no-one did... I knew then that they were going to kill me. That was when Sebastian came."

Hearing his name, the butler came forward with the tray, busying himself with taking away their old dishes and replacing them with the new ones. He briefly met Ciel's eye, and Rachel was shocked by the softness there. Those red eyes had seemed so sinister before, but as they looked at her son, sinister wasn't a word she could describe them as.

"I'm ashamed to say that I _was _involved with those scum," Sebastian confessed, and he certainly did sound ashamed, "I had no part in the fire, but I did nothing to stop it. I always felt they would take things too far but I didn't realise just how far until I saw they'd abducted a child. It was then I knew I had to do something, clear my hands of such... I hesitate to say _people._"

"One of the men had grown impatient waiting for the seizure of the company," Ciel continued, taciturn, "He took it upon himself to get rid of me to speed things along. He had a knife, and... h-he said I had nice eyes, t-that he wanted to keep one –"

Sebastian abandoned the trolley to rest a hand on the increasingly distressed Ciel's shoulder, "I arrived in time to stop him, unfortunately not before _some _damage had been done. But I got the Young Master away from there before any more harm could be done to him."

Ciel had regained his composure by this point, giving his butler a nod. Sebastian nodded back and returned to his work, pushing the trolley away from the table.

Rachel looked at her son with sad eyes. The urge grew stronger, and this time she wasn't able to stop herself. She stood up and walked towards Ciel, ready to hug him. Vincent was sure the child would welcome the embrace, he looked vulnerable, in need. Certainly the comfort of his mother, no matter how long overdue, would appease the thirteen year old Earl.

But again Ciel showed himself to be the master of surprises. He raised his hand, in a motion to stop Rachel, and looked at her with a cold, emotionless eye. That stare... That look, that was enough to break the Phantomhive couple. It held no love, no emotion... Nothing. It was clear Ciel did not like to show weakness or be pitied. He did not like to be comforted. It made him feel weak, Vincent realized. After such a brutal experience, Ciel must have learned the hard way that your best defense was to not show your weakness. At this moment, with two people who somehow rose from the dead, the boy would not let himself be vulnerable. Even if those two people were his own parents.

A glance at the butler, and Vincent thought he caught a faint smirk, a satisfied glint in those red eyes. It was only natural that Ciel would only feel comfortable showing his true emotions in front of the criminal turned butler... Yet, as his father, Vincent couldn't help but feel jealous of the trust Ciel had in the strange man.

"It is my turn," he said, looking at her for a second longer, ignoring her broken expression, and turned towards Vincent, "You have to excuse my inquires and understand my motives. People don't simply come back from the dead. At least, not after three years and certainly never in such pristine condition."

"Ciel..." Rachel murmured, still not moving.

"It does, however, seem like you are genuine." He ignored the butler's smug look. He should have known better than to doubt him, after all, Sebastian never lied, "I am still confused as to how this whole ordeal happened though. What do you remember?"

"Nothing of substance," Vincent answered, "We woke up in our... coffins, at the Undertaker's place." He saw a spark of recognition in Ciel's eye. So apparently the man still served as the Phantomhive's informant. "He said if we wanted answers we should go back home. Now... I see why."

"So you don't know what happened to you?" He glanced at Rachel, probably hoping the woman would let something slip, in case Vincent was hiding anything from him.

"No."

The young boy sighed, gaze dropping to his plate. He was deep in thought, and Rachel was not sure if she should interrupt it for another question or just let him think.

"I guess it can't be helped then," Ciel said, more to himself than the others. He stood up, and suddenly his plastic smile was back in place, "You'll have to forgive me for leaving so abruptly, but I'm afraid I still have work to do and I find I've lost my appetite," he turned towards the butler, "Sebastian?"

"Yes, Young Master?" the butler asked.

"Once they are done with dinner make sure to attend to all their needs, then accompany them back to their room. Afterwards, come see me in my room before retiring to your quarters."

"Of course," the butler replied.

Vincent and Rachel just stood and watched as their son walked towards the stairs without a single backwards glance. When they could see his profile, both of them noticed the melancholic air that surrounded Ciel. The story... Kidnapped, having his eye gouged out... It was too much pain for a child to go through. And now, besides that horrible suffering, he still had the weight of the Phantomhive name and the Underworld on his shoulders. Vincent knew from personal experience how horrible and tiring those things could be. It was too much pressure to give to a small child who had lost everything. Ciel most likely had built a wall around his heart, hoping for protection. It most likely fooled everyone who he came in contact with. But it was not enough to fool his parents. He may have wanted to appear strong while telling them his story, but Vincent and Rachel could see the pure pain blaze in his blue eye. Ciel was hurting. Ciel needed them.

They would be sure to never fail their son again.

۞

"Well, that turned out entirely useless," Ciel huffed, slouching behind his desk, "If they have no idea how they came back to life, if that's what has really happened here, then we've got no leads."

"Not entirely true, Young Master," Sebastian corrected, frowning disapprovingly as the boy rested a foot on his desk, "If nothing else, at least we have convenient specimens at our disposal."

Ciel realised a second too late that he'd frowned at Sebastian's choice of words and quickly cleared his face, but not before the demon had already seen.

He didn't want Sebastian to get the wrong idea. Ciel was not soft, was not _going _soft either. He wasn't about to let himself fall to pieces just because some shadows of the past were crawling back into his life. His parents were dead. Just as dead as the son they'd once had. The person he was now was not their little Ciel, who had gotten grubby fingerprints all over his Father's pocketwatch, who had adopted an imaginary lion with Lizzie. That month, with those people, had destroyed that person as surely as the fire had destroyed the Phantomhives. And whatever dregs had remained, the smallest figments of humanity in him, he had himself erased when he'd pulled the trigger on Baron Kelvin and burned a dozen perfectly innocent children to death.

He had not let himself buckle then. He was not going to let himself buckle now.

"After this interesting conversation, are the plans still the same, Young Master?" asked Sebastian.

"Yes. Make the arrangements for tomorrow. We're going to be staying at the townhouse for a while, until we've gotten to the bottom of this situation," Ciel sighed, "It's been a while since we last stayed there. Here's hoping the moron hasn't decimated the place."

Ciel didn't have to look at Sebastian to know he was giving his trademark smirk, "Right away, Young Master. And... your parents?"

"...Bring them with us. Like you said, convenient specimens. We'll be able to monitor _them_ rather than making rounds to all the families reported to have their dead back amongst them."

Sebastian gave his usual response and left the room to prepare for the next day, leaving Ciel alone with his unease. When the butler left, Ciel turned towards the window, thoughtful. He was not naive. His parents... No, two people had come back from the dead just a few hours short of the Queen giving him a new mission. There was no doubt in the Young Earl's mind that the two events were somehow related.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Authors' Note:**__We are so sorry that it took this long to upload the chapter! We both have been really busy with college and stuff, so our time to write and edit has been… Well, we haven't had a lot of time. Believe it or not, it takes twice as long to write a story with another person. We first must find a compromise on where we want the story and chapter to go, how do we achieve that goal, and then once we start writing, it requires a lot of editing in order to look like only one person wrote it. We are sorry it took this long, but here is Chapter 4! We hope to upload Chapter 5 by the end of the year! _

_**Disclaimer:**__ Kuroshitsuji does not belong to us. _

_Enjoy!_

۞

_They were laughing at him. The sound was like an alarm, shrill and piercing, cutting through the air and reaching him no matter how hard he pressed his hands over his ears. They were laughing at him. They'd stolen his family, his home, periodically stripped him until there was nothing child left. And they laughed, like he was their jester, like his descent to less than dirt was the funniest joke in all the world. The bars of the cage were narrow, wide enough to fit a single hand. The cuff around his ankle grew bigger on him as he shrunk, but no matter how much smaller he got as starvation ravaged him, only a single hand could fit through the bars of his cage. His nails grew longer, the claws of the animal they treated him like, and his ears bled as he clutched at them, trying to drown out their mocking laughter._

_"_Ciel..."

_He tried shutting his eyes and pretending there was no one there. Once upon a time this trick would have worked. He would picture himself back at home, with Mum and Dad, Aunt Ann and Lizzie, Tanaka and Sebastian, and everything would be fine. But now it didn't work any more. When he closed his eyes and pretended he was not there, all he saw was darkness. They killed him. They killed the child inside of him without ever delivering a fatal blow. They drained him of his happiness, his hope, his everything... Now he could only drown himself in his dark thoughts, and the only consolation was the idea of putting them through this same suffering and humiliation._

_"_Ciel..."

_They opened the door of the cage and dragged him to the table, still wet with another's blood. He felt his eyes widen. He knew what was coming. He had seen countless children, just like him, go to that table. He watched in horror as their throats were slit, their guts ripped apart, and their bodies drained of life. He watched as they turned their eyes to him, the laughter spilling from their lips as he pleaded for help._

_It was his turn now._

"Ciel."

_Did he even realize when it happened? When that voice came unbidden into his mind, chuckling darkly, and asking for the forbidden promise? Before he thought he would be okay with dying. He thought he wanted to die. Anything to escape this horrible torment. But now he desperately needed to live. Not to be happy nor to be loved. No, he knew there was no chance of getting those things back. He also didn't want forgiveness or anything like that. He wanted to see them suffer. Every single one of them. He wanted to switch places with them and watch them go through that exact same torment he was subjected to. And he was not going to die until that happened._

_So when the voice came and extended a blood-drenched olive branch, he clutched at it without hesitation. He kept his eyes open while blood was shed. Throats were cut while the screams were still fresh, skin was torn until there was nothing resembling a human left, lives stolen... He watched it all... But this time he was the one asking for it. His hands weren't the ones dripping with blood, but it was certainly his will that made it happen._

_The one who appeared to help him, his saviour, then came to his side and freed him. He held him in his arms, and smiled down at him. A smile that spoke of both pity and contempt. It was the smile, Ciel knew, of the one who would stay by his side, that was bound to him by something stronger than love or compassion._

And when the Young Earl opened his eyes again, he saw a very similar face, staring down at him.

"Sebastian...?" he murmured, voice thick with sleep, only to have the man in front of him frown disappointedly.

"No, Ciel," said the man, "It's me... Your father. We've arrived."

Oh, right. Ciel sat up straight and looked out the window. They were on their way to their London Mansion, and Ciel must have fallen asleep.

Vincent tried his best to hide his sadness. Sebastian... Of course, again it made sense that it was that man whom Ciel would call as soon as he woke up. That man saved him when his life was in danger and had been by his side ever since. He had Ciel's full trust. But he couldn't help the sting he felt in his heart when his young son opened his eye and instead of acknowledging him, he called some other man. It hurt... It hurt so much.

The carriage slowed on the gravel road, pulling to a stop outside the doors of the large townhouse. It was a resplendent building, more attention paid to its appearance than the Manor since the Earl was most likely to receive guests when so close to London.

The carriage door opened, the servant boy they had first met, Snake, helping them down. They hadn't seen him appear, but Sebastian was already at Ciel's side when Vincent looked up. Vincent didn't really have a chance to be bitter about that before a yell stole his attention.

"Ciel!"

Bounding towards them like an over-excited toddler, a dark-skinned man with vivid purple hair let out the cry, grinning all the while. Vincent had only a moment to catch the grimace on his son's face before Ciel was tackled. Or hugged. It was difficult to tell. He half expected Sebastian to pry the man away, but instead he walked around them and greeted the other man following the first.

"Hello, Agni. Apologies for the last minute arrangements. Everything is alright, I trust?"

The other man, Agni, gave a warm smile. "Yes. Everything is just as you left it."

As the two continued to exchange pleasantries, Ciel finally managed to squirm free from his exuberant assaulter.

"Get off – good lord, you're worse than a puppy."

The man didn't even seem to hear Ciel's admonishment, circling him with a hand poised to his chin in mock thought. "Have you gotten shorter? You look shorter."

Ciel flushed a delightful red. "No! You've just gotten taller, you moron."

Rachel almost cracked a smile watching the two. Seeing Ciel getting all embarrassed like that, well, it was the most emotion she'd seen him display since their reunion. At least, it was the most _genuine _emotion. He wasn't donning a porcelain smile, wasn't putting on airs, wasn't playing the role of Earl. He was a child exchanging banter with a friend – well, more like arguing, but even that was a relief to see. She'd been afraid of his iciness, that detachment that shone through whenever he spoke.

The man seemed to sense he was being watched, looking around and seeing them. His nose scrunched up, a sliver of recognition flashing through his eyes, but confusion quickly following. He leaned close to Ciel conspiratorially, managing to whisper louder than he'd actually been talking.

"Have I met them before?"

Rachel had never seen anyone look quite as exasperated as her son did then. He stared at the purple eyed man as though waiting for the punchline. When one wasn't forthcoming, he slapped a hand to his face, "How am _I _supposed to know who _you've _met?"

"They seem familiar," the boy said, ignoring Ciel and still not letting go.

"Will you release me already?" he shook the boy off, and then walked towards Sebastian, straightening his shirt, trying to slip back into his composure, "These are my... parents. Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive."

The two in question did not miss the pause before the word 'parents', and neither did they miss the iciness in his voice. The two, Agni and the other man with purple hair, looked shocked, and turned towards them. Ciel did not say anything else, just waited for the two Indians to take in the information.

"B-But I thought..." the purple haired man turned towards Ciel, his expression shocked.

"Yes, well, so did everyone. But apparently we were wrong." Ciel glanced at his parents once more before turning to the house and walking, "My house better be in one piece."

Sebastian and Snake, ever so the faithful servants, followed Ciel without hesitation. As she watched them walk, Rachel couldn't help but notice, not for the first time, how powerful her son's posture was. He held himself like an adult, a true earl, the top hat, the walking cane, the faithful butler at his side... Everything indicated that this boy had power and was not afraid to use it. It was hard for her to connect the boy walking towards the house to the one who had been tackled just a few seconds ago into a bone crushing hug.

Silently she prayed she could bring that child, the one she had just seen, back to the surface.

"You're...You're Ciel's parents?" the purple hair boy asked, looking between the two of them so quickly it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash.

Vincent smiled politely.

"Yes... It's very nice to meet you, Mister...?"

"This is the twenty-sixth child of the Raja of Bengal, Prince Soma Asman Kadar." said Agni, more than a little pride lacing his words.

"Also known as Ciel's best friend!" the purple haired man, Soma, added with a flourish.

Rachel blinked, _twenty-sixth? _Presumably there was more than one women there or someone deserved a medal.

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Prince Kadar. It seems you've been minding the town house. Thank you." Vincent took over the pleasantries, walking alongside Soma as they made their way into the building. He'd already lost sight of Ciel, unfortunately, but he still remembered where his office was. No doubt that was where the boy had flitted off to.

"Haha, no need to be so formal, Ciel's Father. Prince Soma is fine," the man, though 'boy' probably fitted him better, beamed, "We've taken good care of it, of course. It's not as big as the palace back home but it'll do."

Rachel couldn't help a small smile as she entered the foyer. Oh, this was much better. So, _so _much better. Physically, it didn't differ all that much from the mansion. The same décor, no doubt the same decorator, even the same structure. However, it was warm. Where the mansion had been cold and almost ornamental, this place was cosy. There were slight scuffs on the floor that the rug didn't quite cover. The rooms weren't clinically clean, clutter here and there, the odd shirt slung across the top of a couch. There was a pungent smell on the air, not a particularly bad one but one that was strong enough you could almost taste it in the back of your throat.

This house was so lived in.

۞

"Ugh, what's that smell?" Ciel was more muttering to himself than anything else, but Sebastian heard, of course, and was quick to answer as he shadowed his Master's steps down the hallway.

"I believe that's Biryani Badshahi, a traditional Indian meal. Part of the Mughlai cuisine-"

Ciel had tuned out already. Honestly, that man and his food, it was almost obscene. If he'd realised how many food tangents he'd have to endure, he'd have been a bit more careful with his wording back when he'd made the initial order.

For the first time, he was actually grateful that the Idiot Prince was squatting in his town house. Vincent and Rachel had taken to following him like little lost puppies that he'd thrown a scrap to. While that was aggravating on its own, it was even more so now that he needed to go to see Undertaker, and he was more than a little sure that they'd insist on tagging along.

He was beginning to regret playing nice in the first place. He'd pulled out a sob story and played the fragile little boy because as it were, he didn't know whether he needed the two of them on side or not, and they'd be much more receptive to him if he wasn't _too _distant.

There was a fine line between not too distant and welcoming, however, and maybe he was toeing it a bit too much. He needed to keep them happy without making them think it was alright to start getting in his way.

Well, Soma had always been very good at being distracting.

No sooner had his bottom touched the seat had he sent Sebastian to fetch Soma. They returned shortly, Soma tilting his head curiously.

"Did you want to play, Ciel? That's all well and good but us adults-"

"Sit down a minute. I... wanted to ask you a favour."

This admission silenced Soma instantly. He gave a quizzical smile, dropping into the chair in front of him. The sun shining in from the window glinted off the large golden necklace he sported, blinding Ciel momentarily.

"You've introduced yourself to your parents, I assume?" He didn't hesitate to call them by that title this time but the word felt unfamiliar on his tongue.

Soma nodded emphatically.

"You look just like your Father, huh? Got your Mother's eyes though. But why are you hiding away up here, Ciel? You should be down there with them!"

Ciel gave a careful frown, eye sliding away to stare at the wall. He was silent so long that it bordered awkward, gaze intent on the wall like he would find the words he wanted upon it. When he did speak, it was in a small voice Soma hadn't heard from him before.

"It... It's been three years. So much has changed... I can't get my head around it," he glanced sheepishly back at his friend, "I have no idea how to talk to them any more, Soma. How to act around them," he paused and shook his head, "I thought I would never see them again... I guess I just need some time... To clear my head."

"I... I guess I never thought of it that way... It must be pretty shocking, I know I would be surprised if I saw someone coming back from the dead..."

"So I need you to do me a favour, Soma," Ciel said, surprising said boy.

"A-A favour?" Ciel chose to ignore the sparkle in the eyes of the his friend, as well as that smile that was often followed by a bone-crushing hug.

"Yes," he nodded, "I need you to keep them company, until I get used to this... Just until dinner will be fine. Do you think you can do that for me?"

"Of course!" Soma exclaimed, hugging his friend again, "Of course Ciel! You can count on me!"

And with that the Indian boy left the room, without looking back. Sebastian closed the door and looked at his Master, not missing his exasperated sigh. Ciel shook his head and turned his chair towards the window, his back facing the door and his faithful butler. He gazed upon the scenery in front of him, pondering upon the situation. He didn't have to look back to know the demon was smirking, probably enjoying his innocent child façade.

"Was that a really a good idea, Young Master?" he asked "I'm not sure we can count on him quite this much."

"He won't do much besides keeping those two busy." Ciel turned his chair again, looking Sebastian in the eye. He rested his chin in his palm, "We need them distracted if we want to question Undertaker without their interference."

"You plan to keep them away from the investigation?"

"Not exactly," he answered, "They can be useful at times, I have no doubt about that. I'll use them as the situation calls for it, they will play the role I choose for them. But they will be more useful for me if certain information is kept in the dark. The key, Sebastian, to defeating your enemy, is not only being more capable than your opponent, but also to have more information than them. I'll need you make sure they don't know anything we don't want them to know." A pause. "I will also need you to make sure they stay truthful themselves. Can you manage that?"

A smirk.

"What would a Phantomhive butler be if he couldn't do such a thing?"

Mimicking his servant, the Earl let his lips curl up.

"Excellent."

۞

Vincent and Rachel didn't notice the carriage drawing away from the house, passing bumpily over the gravel road leading out of the grounds. Their attention had already been stolen by the exuberant Prince playing host.

She liked him, Rachel decided, this Soma. He had spirit to spare, something she was sure her son needed after everything he'd been through. He reminded her of Ann, truth be told, so warm and open.

Ah, Ann. There was a pang in Rachel's chest whenever she thought the name. The last thing she remembered of her sister was insisting she come to Ciel's birthday party. She'd hesitated to extend the invite, worrying that it may only be rubbing salt in the too raw wounds. It would be like saying, _"You lost your family, now come celebrate mine." _But seeing Ann so... so _colourless _had broken her down until she had to insist. Ann was always so bright, even if she couldn't see it herself, but after the carriage crash she just seemed to fade to gray.

Oh, god. Had Ann come to the party? Had she been there the day Rachel had – even in her head, she couldn't say the D word. It just didn't seem right. She wasn't dead, after all. She was sitting on this couch, holding a steaming cup of tea, the cup leaving a tingling heat on her palm. Dead people couldn't feel heat – but had Ann come, after losing her husband and child, only to lose her sister as well?

"Rachel?" A firm hand squeezing her knee, the voice sharp with veiled concern. She snapped from her thoughts, only just realising that the conversation that had been filling the air had ceased. Vincent frowned across at her, his hand giving another squeeze as if to say, _breathe, we have an audience right now. _Soma, sitting cross-legged on the chair across from them, blinked owlishly at her, head tilted to the side.

"Are you okay, Ciel's Mother?" he asked, "It's the tea, isn't it? Agni said you're not supposed to put nutmeg in it, but I thought it couldn't hurt to try."

And like that, she was back, tossing a smile on.

"Sorry, I was miles away then. What were you saying?"

Soma grinned, the grin of the child who'd drawn on the walls and successfully pegged it on his sibling.

"I was asking if you have any embarrassing stories about Ciel. He acts all mature but I just _know _he was a rascal back in the day."

Rachel chuckled, "And just what would you do with that information?"

"Not blackmail or anything," the boy denied, a little too quickly, "I just really want to know what he was like before. He acts like such an adult but I'm pretty sure no-one needs to do as much product testing as he does."

"Product testing?" Vincent couldn't help but smile, picturing his son with some oversized stuffed animal in his arms, "What are his favourite products then?"

"Oh, the sweets, that's for sure!" the Prince said, laughing, "I've never seen someone who likes sweets as much as him!"

"He always did have a sweet tooth," Rachel replied, smiling fondly. Well, at least there were some things that would never change. She still remembered when she would find Ciel sneaking into the kitchen, searching for whatever sweet he could get his little hands on. She would scold him, like any mother should, but every now and again gave in and turned her back, allowing the small child to have his precious snack. During his birthdays it wasn't so much the presents the boy looked forward to, but Tanaka's amazing cake.

"Tell me about it!" Soma said, laughing, "I think the only reason he keeps Sebastian around is because he's such a good cook!"

"Sebastian is indeed a fantastic cook," Rachel said, remembering the dinner from the day before.

"Yeah, and he can figure out a bunch of cool stuff too," Soma said, nodding his head as if agreeing with himself, "I mean, who would have ever thought of putting chocolate in curry?"

"Chocolate in curry?" This time Vincent spoke up, frowning slightly, "That doesn't sound very... pleasant."

"I thought so as well. But then he did it, and made it into a curry bun and wow!" He raised his arms, like he was telling a big story and it had finally came to the climax. Rachel couldn't help but chuckle at that, and silently wished her own child could be as comfortable with them as the Prince clearly was, "The Funtom company won the competition! And they were up against Agni's right hand! That is pretty amazing, I've never seen anyone going up against Agni win before!"

"Well, Sebastian didn't earn Ciel's trust for nothing," Vincent replied, smiling sadly.

"Yeah..." And then, more to himself he added, "Though I'm surprised he doesn't give Ciel nightmares..."

"What do you mean?" Rachel asked.

"Oh! Nothing! Nothing at all, just talking to myself!" the boy laughed, trying to pretend those words had never escaped his lips... But they had, and Rachel was sure to confront him about it later on.

"Hey! Snake!" Said servant turned towards the Prince, what little colour rested on his cheeks flooding away comically fast, "Come play with us! We can start a fun game with five!"

۞

"Let's just get this over with," Ciel sighed, glancing at the building that it was in front of them. Wedged between two completely unobtrusive shops lay Undertaker's place. It was a wonder the man did business at all with the building so gaudily decorated, but Ciel supposed that was the appeal for the people who would ever need to go there in the first place. A sign almost the entire width of the wall rested above the door – deep purple and framed by gold, there was no doubt left to just who owned the establishment what with the huge UNDERTAKERstamped across the front of the sign. To make it even more blatant to any dunces who hadn't picked up on the whole Gothic thing just yet, a granite skull perched atop the sign. At least, he hoped it was stone. It wouldn't be all that surprising if the eccentric owner had really shoved a human skull there. Two coffins rested against the wall beside the door. Today they were closed, a subtle message to would-be clients that the shop was not open.

Ciel of course ignored that and strolled straight through the door, Sebastian at his heels. The inside of the shop was no better. More coffins than could possibly be necessary cluttered the shop floor, the entire room enshrouded in darkness. This was probably more for the desired dramatic effect than necessity. It was all Ciel could do not to trip over his own feet.

"Undertaker?" he called out to the pitch black room, watching the nearest coffin warily. The man had that infuriating habit of popping up like a goddamn jack-in-a-box and making Ciel jump out of his skin.

That familiar unnerving chuckle slowly seeped into the air. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to never just begin but to have been going on for a while, yet you only start hearing it right then. It was the kind of laugh that seemed to come from all around you. It sent a chill down most people's spines. Ciel and Sebastian had heard it far too often to be remotely bothered by Undertaker's theatrics, though, so just waited impatiently for the man to make his slow entrance.

He didn't pop out of one of his coffins, thankfully. The man swept into the room from a back door, black cloaks swirling around him like smoke, his grey hair set off starkly against the dark surroundings. His teeth were pearly white when he set eyes – supposing he had them, his face so hidden it was difficult to tell – on his guests, lips curling up into his trademark grin.

"Hello, Little Earl. I was expecting you to drop by." His voice somehow managed to be both high-pitched _and _gruff, the voice of a heavy smoker even though Ciel had never seen the man hold a cigarette in his life. "How's the family?"

Ciel frowned.

"Risen, apparently."

Undertaker gave his smoky chuckle. He busied himself with tea, rinsing out a beaker in lieu of cups. It was just plain, no flavour, but Ciel accepted it anyway. He'd probably choke down a few mouthfuls out of the courtesy deeply instilled in him.

"You shouldn't complain, they were in awful good condition. It could be worse."

"Oh? I'm no expert but after three years I imagine they shouldn't be quite so... fleshy. Have other cases been in less pristine condition, Undertaker?"

"What makes you assume there were other cases, Earl?"

"Don't play with me," Ciel answered, taking a small sip of the tea before resting it on a nearby coffin and crossing his arms and legs, indicating that he was talking business, "The Queen sent me a letter to investigate why the number of graverobbings has increased, and then, just a day later, Vincent and Rachel Phantomhive came back from the dead, after three years of being six feet under."

"Very good... Very good..." A chuckle, and the thirteen year old couldn't help but sigh. This was going to be a long visit, "Yes, more and more clients seemed to have gone missing from my coffins... Though if you want more information than that, you know the price you will need to pay."

"Very well." The boy turned to his butler. "Sebastian, will you..."

"Not so fast," Undertaker interrupted, "You can't have Master Butler always doing everything for you...What would happen if he was suddenly," and those long nails started caressing the young Earl's face, "Snatched away from you?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Ciel said, slapping the hand away, "Sebastian will never leave my side."

"Never, My Lord," Sebastian reassured.

"Hmm... Yes, one never leaves its prey, isn't that correct?" Another husky chuckle, "Even so, today I want something coming from you, Earl... I'm in the mood for something... Different. If you can give it to me, I will tell you everything you wish to know."

"Different?" the boy echoed, "You may enjoy laughter, Undertaker, but I'm in no mood for jokes. What do you want?"

"Well, Earl, what I want from you is..."

Ciel's eyes widened at the answer. He didn't hesitate to stand up and make his way to the front door of the shop, brows turned into a deep frown.

"We're leaving!" he declared, already ready to be greeted by the clouded skies of London. However, before he could step outside Sebastian put his hand on his shoulder, stopping him from going any further. "Sebastian, what are you doing?"

"Please Young Master, be reasonable," the butler said "I know what he asked is rather... outragerous, but keep in mind he is our best lead. Without him, we may not know how our unexpected guests came back to life."

"And you honestly expect me to do... to do _that_?" Ciel asked, still unable to word what Undertaker had told him.

"I do believe you often said to do whatever it takes to solve the cases the Queen gives you."

A glare... Damn that Demon, he was right. When Ciel took the title of watchdog three years ago he promised to go to any lengths to complete his mission. He would not hesitate, no matter what. He had killed already. Worse yet, he allowed his late Aunt to dress him as girl, squeezing into that torture device women use as a piece of clothing and allowed the idiot Viscount put his hands around his waist... Complying with Undertaker's wish couldn't be nearly as bad.

"You really are enjoying this, aren't you?" he asked. The butler just smiled, and the Earl sighed "Very well. But you are not to speak of this to no one!"

۞

After the laughter had ceased and Undertaker finally caught his breath, he more than willing to help.

"How many other people have risen back from the Underworld?" was the first question Ciel asked.

"Can't say for certain..." Undertaker replied, still chuckling, "I took the Phantomhives in due to the fact they were one of my favourite clients... Before and After the fire. I'd heard about the liveliness of our dearly departed as of late so I've taken to doing my rounds out back," he cocked his head towards the door, no doubt leading to the graveyard, "I was passing by your parents when I heard a little scuttling sound. I thought it better to be safe than sorry, and here we are. So, was it a heart-warming reunion, Earl?"

Ciel's face was a portrait of irritation, "Obviously. So I'm sure you took the liberty of observing them. What can you tell me?"

"Well, you've seen for yourself~ One hundred percent organic."

Ciel frowned.

"Hmm. We've already ascertained that they're the genuine article. Fine, the other cases then. Were any of them your clients?"

Undertaker hummed in thought, swaying tipsily, "Nope! All the returners aren't from our world, as far as I've been able to tell."

"Right. Sebastian," Ciel turned to his butler, "Go collect information on the gravewalkers. I want to know about how they lived their lives, any connection they could possibly have to the occult, their families too."

"Yes, My Lord." Without any hesitation, Sebastian was out the door. Ciel hesitated a moment, as though to ascertain his butler was definitely gone, before turning back to Undertaker.

"There's another matter I'd like to attend to."

۞

The walk was one Ciel had taken only once before, on the day of the funeral. He'd actually intended to come back, every once in a while, with a red rose for her. He liked to think he was much too busy to be running such a fool's errand – she was dead, she wasn't going to notice a flower – but really, it wouldn't have taken all that long. There was just something about seeing her name carved onto that slab of marble, _Angelina Durless, _that was so... final. Well, that was the point of death, wasn't it? The most final of finales. Still, an unpleasant feeling had washed over him that day, after the red petals had finished twirling on the air and his Aunt had been laid beneath the dirt. A feeling that twisted his stomach and made his head throb. He didn't care to put a name to it, but the thought that standing once more before that grave would bring the feeling back was enough to keep him away.

Sebastian probably would have called that feeling weakness.

He probably wouldn't have been wrong.

Undertaker lead the way down the gravel path, shovel hanging over his shoulder, ash hair whipping about in the wind. Too soon they arrived at the spot and the unbidden feeling came upon him once more. His head suddenly felt too heavy as he stared at the name upon that rock, the tribute so lacklustre for the one it was supposed to be memorialising.

Thankfully, Undertaker didn't speak. He just moved forward and broke the top layer of dirt, hardened by the chill but not yet frozen. He worked silently, desecrating the final resting place of the woman who had not been able to end Ciel's life. Despite his heavy clothing and the laborious work, Undertaker didn't even break a sweat.

A dull thud signalled that the man had reached their target.

For a fleeting moment, Ciel wished he hadn't been so quick to order Sebastian away, that he could turn his back and have his Demon look within the coffin instead.

_You are kind. If you weren't, you'd simply be a coward, isn't that right?_

That moment passed so quickly it might never have happened. A face of stone, Ciel watched intently as Undertaker pried open the lid of the coffin. A smell permeated the air, rank and eye-watering but tinged with sweetness.

"Satisfied, Earl?" Undertaker asked, that slight undercurrent of laughter still lacing his words as he climbed out of the freshly dug hole, stepping back with a grand gesture as though unveiling something wonderful.

The smell was enough. He didn't need to see what was left in that coffin.

"Yes. Close it up," Ciel ordered, voice choked as he spun around and strode away. That feeling had doubled, was more smothering than the smell of rotting flesh that he couldn't seem to connect with his Aunt. He swallowed it down, though, willing away the rising urge to vomit.

Madame Red was as dead as the day of her funeral. She, at least, was not a part of whatever was going on.


	5. Chapter 5

**No, we are not dead! We are so sorry it took us this long to do this chapter. No excuses, we simply… Yeah… But here it is! We can't promise you that the next chapter will come out quickly, but it shouldn't take as long as it did for this one to get ready. Hopefully it will be longer as well… Enjoy~**

**Disclaimer: We do not own Kuroshitsuji… We are but humble fans, having a bit of fun with our twisted imaginations… **

Ciel couldn't help but frown slightly as he stepped back into his mansion; the smell of curry battling against the odour of Madame Red's corpse that still lingered in the young boy's nostrils. Both battled each other, the winner gaining a home in Ciel Phantomhive's body, while the loser would become a simple memory. The laughter coming from the kitchen did little to help his nausea, and with a weary sigh, the boy made his way to the sitting room, not entertaining the idea of going up the stairs only to come down again for dinner in a few minutes.

One cerulean eye stared straight ahead, though it saw nothing. Ciel's mind was far away, gears turning as the information was processed, carried, from one room to another, being analysed by the thousands of Ciel Phantomhive's that had resided there inside. The dead coming back to life... What a ridiculous idea. Had someone suggested such a thing during the previous week, Ciel would have laughed in their face and asked Sebastian to kindly escort said person to the nearest asylum; the living dead was a far-fetched thing even for those who had dealt with demons and grim reapers.

Yet the proof was there, not a few feet away from where he sat: his parents, both burned to death, laughing with the idiotic prince who Ciel trusted his mansion to. Their bodies were not scarred, neither had they aged. Their memories were still intact, their intelligence not lacking or exceeding what it had previously been. Sebastian had already confirmed that those indeed were Vincent and Rachel, not some doubles or underworld creature that could obtain the memories of any person. That meant that they... those things were man made. Somehow, someone was able to cheat death and bring back those long gone. And now it was Ciel's mission to put them six feet under once again, exactly where they belonged.

Even so, questions still roamed through his mind; how do you kill that which is already dead? If he shot those standing in the kitchen, would they die again? Would they simply lie on the floor and then stand up once more, just like he had seen Sebastian do countless times? And if it did work, what could Ciel do to guarantee they would not return another time? No, that would be a waste of time. As much as it irritated him, he would have to keep Vincent and Rachel alive, at least until they found out what made them return. Not to mention they were still the only lead he had.

But why them? Why them and not Madame Red, or any number of the enemies Ciel had stolen the last breath from? The possibility of all the returnees being random was not something he was willing to consider. No, it would be too much of a coincidence for both his parents to come back to life. That could only mean they were targeting Ciel. Why? Maybe because they knew he was the Queen's Watchdog. Yes... That made sense. Someone from the underworld then, someone who knew the real duties of Earl Phantomhive, was responsible for all this. A distraction, perhaps? In hopes of keeping the dog distracted, they threw him a nice toy, while at the same time mixing many scents. Yes... Good... Making sense of a senseless situation, that was what he could do. Compartmentalize, take away the personal aspects, make Vincent and Rachel just another case study.

So, conclusion: Someone from London's underworld – almost certainly, as the returnees were restricted to London – desired to bring someone back from the dead. However, that person was not just some commoner, but someone who wouldn't have gone unnoticed. So it was necessary to bring more than their one desired person back. Muddy the waters and make themselves a statistic rather than an anomaly. And it was someone who knew about Ciel's role, knew enough that he would be assigned to the case, and brought back his parents to try and unbalance him.

Ciel wasn't sure whether to smirk or scowl. Either way, things were getting interesting.

His Master was looking pensive, having claimed his place at the head of the table and driving Vincent to the seat on his right. Vincent didn't look much perturbed at the loss of what must to him have seemed _his _rightful place. Rather, he looked earnest, attempting to engage his son in between bites of the dinner Agni had prepared. Unsurprisingly, Ciel was proving less than responsive. Or rather, his answers were short, simple, completely polite... Not at all how one would expect a child of thirteen to treat his long lost parents.

It was a heartening sight, it had to be said. For all Ciel's bluster, Sebastian was not blind to the wrinkle between his brows and the uncertainty in his expression whenever he looked at his parents. That uncertainty was a line in the sand that he couldn't be allowed to cross. Sebastian would ensure he did not.

Rachel had joined the effort to get Ciel to take part in the conversation, prodding him to eat his mostly untouched food, even brushing a bit of lint off the shoulder of his jacket. It would have been amusing – the embarrassed flush that rose to Ciel's cheeks, his spluttered order for her to stop fussing at his clothes – were it not for the too long pause. As though he had to remind himself that he was supposed to be bothered by her actions.

Ciel finally noticed his presence by the door. He tensed, and something almost wary flickered over his face. If nothing else, at least he seemed to be aware that the moment had been distasteful. He was visibly uncomfortable that Sebastian had apparently witnessed it. Good.

"If you'll excuse me, I have work to be getting back to." Ciel stood, ignoring Rachel's objection, striding over to Sebastian's side. The two left the room swiftly and made their way in silence to Ciel's office. The silence only lasted as long as the door took to shut. "What took you so long? You've been gone half the day."

"The issue is more wide-spread than we had believed. I was only being certain to be thorough." Sebastian gave a saccharine sweet smile. "How did your own errand fare?"

Ciel didn't give him the frown he was so clearly baiting. "Fine. Everything is as it should be. What did you find?"

Sebastian made to place the bag he was carrying, not that Ciel had seen it in his hand before that moment, upon the desk. Ciel stopped him with an outstretched hand.

"Young Master?"

"I'm going to be perfectly clear this time, so there won't be any unfortunate communication errors; I want you to sort through the documents in those bags and select the most likely leads based on the family members of the returned. From both the surface _and _the underworld." Ciel was fairly certain there was no loophole in his words, and from the look of boredom on Sebastian's face, he was right.

It didn't take long, though nothing ever took Sebastian all that long anyway. Soon enough, the flood of papers that had spilled from the bag were sorted into neat little piles, and it was only three files that Sebastian presented to him on his desk.

"Factoring in extended family, inter-familial relations between the relatives, any possible links to the occult, and recognized criminal records, these are the cases that I believe would be worth closer examination," Sebastian explained dutifully, sliding the files across the wood. "While I do think there is weight to your theory that our culprit is of a high-standing family, and two of these follow that line of thought, I suggest that you don't dismiss the third lead out of hand. Considering his … proclivities, it may be beneficial to take him into consideration."

"Indeed..." Ciel agreed, his nose wrinkling slightly as he read the files "While his... preferences, are unethical to say the least, it does deserve some looking into." His gaze lifted slightly towards the demon butler, "But I doubt we will find anything. He seems to prefer his partners just as they were before this whole ordeal started: cold and with no pulse."

"That would be what one would expect of a necrophiliac," the demon agreed.

"_Possible_ necrophiliac," Ciel corrected, "Let's not forget, the evidence never linked together well enough for anything to come of it." He shook his head, snorting. "What is so appealing about the dead, Sebastian?"

"I wouldn't know, Young Master." The smirk on Sebastian's lips would have sent chills down a lesser man's spine. "I prefer my meals warm."

"Obviously, but as someone who has lived for so long, I would imagine boredom is unavoidable. Certainly you have experimented with these kind of things before." The smirk dropped from Sebastian's face, and was on the young Earl's. Sharp tongued remarks were his way of reminding the demon who was the superior being; the one who had had no fear of Hell even at the tender age of ten. It mattered not what had occurred in the dining room a few minutes prior; Ciel was still the Master in this room. "Regardless, let's not worry so much about this one for now. I would prefer to start this investigation with -"

Ciel's eye widened in surprised, then his face morphed into a distasteful sneer. While he massaged his temples, Ciel shoved the file he had been reading aside.

"Is there something the matter, Young Master?"

"Why am I not surprised," he picked up the picture attached to the pushed aside file and passed it to Sebastian, "That _he_ is one of our leads."

Sebastian frowned as well. While usually the expression on Ciel's face would have amused him to no end, he had to admit that even he wasn't too thrilled about dealing with that man.

"Well sir, Viscount Druitt has shown some connections to the occult, as was proven in the Jack the Ripper case."

"He has connections with everything," the boy said with a snort, "He always finds a way to appear in my investigations, always there, wasting my time, or just plain being_himself._"

"Yes, the Viscount's personality is a tad bit... bothersome. And he does seem to always end up in your way, Young Master."

"Which is exactly why we are going to leave him for last," Ciel concluded, "I'D rather not deal with him until absolutely necessary, and whenever he turned up as a lead in previous cases, it was always a dead end. Let's not waste our time with this man."

"Of course."

"We'll start with _him,_" Ciel said, giving the file to Sebastian, "Duke Harcourt."

Soma had excused himself to his bedroom a little over an hour ago, but Vincent and Rachel lingered in the dining room, hands joined and fingers laced together beneath the table they had sat at so many times before. However this was not his chair, Vincent thought once again that evening, this was not his place. That seat was far too large for his son, the weight of its meaning larger for him still.

Rachel squeezed his hand tighter.

"He still gets so easily flustered," she observed, like it was a consolation. Maybe it was for her. It did little to console Vincent, not when Ciel had seemed to flee from them only moments later. He wasn't _letting _himself relax with them, Vincent knew for certain now, and he seemed to find nothing but alarm when he realized that he had. Ciel wasn't easily flustered, his reaction had had nothing to do with them and everything to do with himself, his unwillingness to slip back into their care.

It would have been easier than breathing, so Ciel would hold his breath until he was blue in the face. Like father, like son.

A creak shattered their pensive silence as the dining room door was pushed open, the butler slipping into the room. As late as it was, a while since Ciel had gone to sleep surely, his butler was still working dutifully. He gave them a closed-mouth smile, dark eyes bright in the glow of the candlestick he held. It unsettled Vincent, the look he was given, though there was nothing but polite deference there.

"The manor is awfully cold at night. If you plan on staying up for a while longer, I have prepared the library for you. The fire is lit and you'll find some refreshments there." Nothing but the best of manners there, but Vincent rankled nonetheless. It would have been better if the butler was outright disrespectful, at least poor at his work, some legitimate reason for Vincent to be finding it so difficult to warm up to him.

Vincent didn't remember the manor being this cold at night.

"Thank you, Michaelis -"

"Sebastian is fine, sir."

"We know the way, _Michaelis. _You may retire for the night. Thank you."

The butler seemed surprised for a moment, but only a moment, giving them a slow nod and turning to leave without another word. Rachel's grip on his hand had tightened in a silent reprimand. When Vincent gave no indication that he had noticed, she slipped free from his grip and stood.

"Sebastian, a word, please? If you're not too busy." Rachel had dressed herself in her formality, her impenetrable armour, and Vincent felt abashed for his own loss of composure. For all that he had been born into this sort of life, it was Rachel who had been groomed for their ways, their rules, and she knew how to play the game so well.

"Of course, my Lady." Sebastian walked back towards them, stopping a respectful distance away and dipping his head.

"I don't believe my husband and I have thanked you for all you've done for Ciel," Rachel stated, lacing her own fingers together in front of her, something she only did to stop herself fidgeting. Her imagination was so vivid, one of the first things Vincent had loved about her, but it was a double-edged sword at times like these. No doubt she was replaying Ciel's words in her mind, torturing herself with visions of what happened to him. He wanted to take her hand in his again, anchor her, but not now, not when she was playing her role.

"It went without saying," Sebastian replied simply.

"But let it be said nonetheless – thank you." Rachel inclined her head, both deference and respect in the gesture, and Sebastian looked a little surprised. It must have been surprising, for someone of her status to do so for a servant, but Rachel always had been full of surprises.

"You are more than welcome," Sebastian responded after a long pause, "But if it is for the Young Master, then I need no thanks. I am only too happy to follow him."

And Vincent realized then, that it was not any problem on Sebastian's part that had his hackles rising, but nothing more than jealousy turning his own thanks to ashes in his mouth. Because it should have been him, not this stranger, to have saved his son and brought him home, to have watched him grow these past three years. Shouldn't it have been enough, Vincent wondered, that Ciel was safe and sound, regardless of who had been the one to make it so? Why couldn't he thank the butler as sincerely as Rachel could, instead of being bitter that Ciel would speak so easily to the butler but give his own father such a cold reception.

The words fought him, but Vincent forced them out with as much sincerity as he could muster, "Thank you, Sebastian."

Maybe, in due time, he would mean it.


End file.
